


grown ups

by berryblues



Category: Baekyeol - Fandom, Chanbaek - Fandom, EXO
Genre: Angst, Depression, Dystopia, M/M, Utopia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9409676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryblues/pseuds/berryblues





	1. Chapter 1

we no longer spend nights sleeping  
but instead  
cramming notes, overthinking  
we replace water with coffee, thinking it'll make us less tired  
the exhaustion is heart deep.  
we watch as the weight goes down, hoping, maybe, that the lost numbers will somehow add up into our worth  
they dont.  
so we gorge ourselves, we throw up calories and worries and stress, but the bile it leaves behind is heavier than any carb.  
we stand, shaking, before a mirror, blood threatening to drip onto the ground, a rusted slice of metal glinting from the bathroom lights.  
the taste of vodka stings less and less  
and we wake up, hungover with regrets  
the cycle starts again.  
never enough, never enough  
no one hears you.  
what a blessed generation.


	2. Chapter 2

They were lying on the roof, Baekhyun nimble, Chanyeol stepping on a wrong shingle more times than not, and almost falling. The stars were out, and it was beautiful.  
Or so Chanyeol presumed. No one could see the pinpricks of light anymore, covered as they were with smog and carbon dioxide. Baekhyun liked to pretend that they could poke holes in the sky to see them, but they both knew that it was just feeble attempts at mediating the permanent depression. A planet cannot live without the stars, nor the moon.  
Lunacy, so called because insanity was once associated with the moon, became a universal term, once the believed origin disappeared from view. Everyone was deluded now, reflective suits on during the day to deflect UV rays from the holes in the ozone layer. Smiling smiling smiling they pretend away their fallacies.  
"Lies," Baekhyun had said when Chanyeol first encountered him. That was the first of many suicide attempts. It was nothing new; almost everyone had an attempt or four on their records, but the tall boy couldn't help scrambling up buildings to try and save them.  
Truthfully, the preferred method of killing yourself is on top of a building (and they are quite high nowadays, society expanding upwards when the overpopulated world ran out of land) because sometimes when you're that high up, it's easier to pretend that you are negative 212 years old. They didn't even have gas then, hushed whispers at midnight said, let alone the harnessed energy to power hovercars. They didn't have phones, and they most certainly didn't have the chip in their brain constantly emitting feedback from a corrupt government jostling for power. It was taboo to speak ill, with the Leaders monitoring every word, but Baekhyun spoke anyways. And Chanyeol listened. Both met on top of the out-of-use EPA headquarters (what a joke) and thought they could breathe, night air considerably less toxic than the daytime crowd of greenhouse gases. Both were pale from lack of contact with the poisonous sunlight, probably glowing, had the moonlight not been artificial, a spacecraft programmed to emulate lunar graces.  
"Do you ever think about the future?" Baek asked Yeol, and the other cringed. They were both on the edge of adulthood, 14 years old. Chanyeol was turning 15 soon, and would be taking over the architectural department of District 8. He didn't want to think about what that meant, going up 133 floors before being cooped in a 3x5 meter "office" with employees who refused to speak with words other than the ones programmed. The tall boy, almost man, did not like thinking about the future, no.  
Though he didn't answer, Baekhyun continued on, slender hands running over shingles covered in rust. He was bleeding, but who didn't self harm nowadays?  
"I think about the past a lot. Did you know that youths were once living up to 20 years old, right? I snuck into the archives and read about them."  
The chip should have induced a splitting headache right about then, but it didn't. Chanyeol chose to believe that Baekhyun was defunct, an outcast. He still listened anyways, and if he could speak, he would probably make a joke about how he wished he could be invisible, too.  
"You know what I think? I think that youth is more of a feeling than a number. I'm in it now, and I know that these suicidal thoughts and rebellious manners are encouraged, but I also know that it doesn't magically go away when you get older. Depression is the true leader of this planet," he declared, and Chanyeol gasped softly.  
The smaller boy took out a bottle of what could only have been alcohol, a common thing stolen but not heavily guarded at all. After all, what teenager didn't sneak booze? Baekhyun was crying, and tears mixed with blood. Chanyeol tried to desensitize himself because he knew he himself did the same thing, and so did the majority of the population, but he couldn't deny the lurch in his heart, still mostly his own, at seeing such a beautiful boy, soft hair and sparkling eyes, destroy himself.  
"I think youth is defined by the drinking, cutting, eating disorders, anxiety, drugs, insomnia, suicide, not the other way around. Why don't we exist? We are the youth, and why is it okay for the adults to forget about us? Why is it okay to watch your student, co-worker, son, want to kill themselves, and not say a damn word? Psychiatrists prescribe pills that they know we'll overdose on, but they let us. When did splitting veins with broken razors constitute as "just a phase"? It is not okay to live in a constant state of paranoia and sleep deprivation. Did you know that back in the 21st century, they had suicide hotlines? Why did they care then, but not now?"  
"I'll bet they didn't care then, either," Chanyeol wanted to reply. They just pretended a lot better than the current society.  
"The seniors don't wish to be young again, anymore, Yeol," Baekhyun whispered, scared.  
"No one believes in love anymore. This heart isn't even mine. I think, I think-" He's shivering, empty stomach filling with vodka.  
"I think that's what youth really is. It gets progressively longer, and people stop caring. Did they ever?" His fingers are numb, fumbling with sleeping pills.  
"Love isn't a bad thing. It didn't cause this. People used to commit suicide over break-ups, but it was okay, because you were never alone. I think that helped a little bit. I think love can move us from youth, whether it be broken, tender, abusive. It's better than being lost. Lost defines youth, but Found does, too."  
"Acceptance is such a hard thing to come by, even in the past. I believe in love, though, and I think I have the courage, maybe now, to be a youth."  
Chanyeol couldn't quite believe how verbose the other could still be, intoxicated as he was. But Baekhyun seemed quite awake as he turned towards him at last, eyes holding the revelation. Chanyeol thought he saw something there; for a split second he understood, but then the clock stopped sounding the toll of twelve, and it was morning again.  
He shifted to avoiding sliding off the roof, but was distracted by a figure, male with soft hair drifting from the artificial breeze, falling towards the ground.  
"Baek-" Chanyeol called, but suddenly he felt drowsy, Circadian rhythm enforced again. As his eyes closed, he tried to hold onto the feeling, not a number.  
When he awoke, Park Chanyeol was officially 15, and he walked past the crooked corpse on the sidewalk with little more than a glance. Just another suicidal teen. Why couldn't they learn to be less selfish? Parents worked their asses off to support them and they only took it for granted. Ungrateful bastards.  
The youth.  
"Lies."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, to not be a kid"  
we used to say  
Back when the grown-ups had their  
Wine parties and committees  
"To improve the neighborhood!"  
they said  
And blew the budget on meaningless things  
No one cares about a fountain or a set of picnic tables for the park.  
"Oh, to be young again"  
you say  
Thinking of a time when  
Your back didn't ache  
and your knees didn't creak when you bent them.  
But  
Do you really?  
Youth is not  
Running around the street past dinner  
Or having three way phone calls with your best friends.  
About so-and-so checking you out in class  
Did he say anything about me?  
No.  
Jittery fingers after too much powder  
Throwing up in class from the vodka  
A surreptitious exchange of nudes  
And lying to parents to go to parties  
But it is not all.  
"Oh, to be young again"  
Alas,  
Youth  
Is  
An increase in deindividualization  
Girls  
And maybe boys too  
Skipping meals and vomiting  
Everyone is depressed now  
But it's become habit.  
Bone thin  
Can you see through the gaps?   
Because we can't  
Not anymore.  
We are the youth  
And we would give anything to die.


End file.
